


The Portrait

by Natalie L (nat1228)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, Holiday, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:18:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nat1228/pseuds/Natalie%20L
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair wants to give Jim a special gift for Christmas, but his lover's suspicions almost spoil the surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Portrait

## The Portrait

by Natalie L

Author's website:  <http://www.squidge.org/~nat1228/TSslash.htm>

Pet Fly and Paramount own the copyright to The Sentinel and its characters. This piece of fan fiction was written solely for the love of the characters and to share freely with other fans. No profit is being made from the posting of this story.   


A special thank you to my betas, Mary and Elaine, for their hard work. This story first appeared in the My Mongoose E-Zine "Many Seasons of Love 3" and has been graciously released early, so that I could post for Christmas, by Lisa and Patt.

* * *

Blair slammed the door on the Volvo and dashed for the Art Department's door. He entered the building, running down the hall to the small office he used as a dressing room. He quickly stripped and shrugged into a ratty old robe, pulling it closed before hurrying barefoot a few more yards down the corridor to the studio. 

As he slipped through the studio's door, Blair could see that the students were already set up and waiting for him. "Sorry," he puffed to the professor, trying to catch his breath as he let the robe slip, stretching out on his side on the upholstered lounge in the front of the room. 

Professor Geoffrey Melbourne smiled at his model, fussing to compose him properly. "Don't worry about it, Blair. We haven't been waiting long." He adjusted the arm beneath Blair's head a bit and then tweaked the draping of his leg. Finally, he positioned Blair's penis so that it hung straight down, contrasting sharply against the dark pubic hair. "Now remember, don't move," he said, stepping away so that his students would have a good view. 

The room was chilly, and space heaters had been placed near the lounge to help keep Blair comfortable. Even so, his nipples contracted to hard little nubs and his balls drew up close to his body. Blair was acutely aware of his state of undress. He swept his eyes around the room, watching as the students alternately stared at him, and then went busily about their sketches. While he had never had a problem with his body, he had also never posed nude in public. It felt strange to think of the nineteen students all putting his likeness on paper. To take his mind off his current situation, he allowed it to drift to Jim and the upcoming Christmas break. 

As usual, tuition, books and living expenses had eaten nearly all the grad student's financial resources. Teaching fellows just weren't afforded much of a stipend, and his work at the PD didn't pay squat. It was already the second week of December, with Christmas fast approaching, and Blair was without the money to buy Jim a gift. 

Word had gotten around through the university's grapevine that Professor Melbourne was looking for nude male models for his course in Life Drawing. Apparently, it was difficult to find guys who were willing to bare it all in front of a mixed group of students. Blair had approached the professor with a proposition: he would model for the class in exchange for a portrait of himself to give to Jim. 

Oh, God... Jim.... A slight smile twitched at his lips as he thought about the stoic detective. Their road to a sexual relationship had been a rocky one. It had all begun just a few short weeks ago, after yet another psycho had put him in the hospital. The injury had been relatively mild, with Blair's release coming within twenty-four hours. Still, Jim's reaction had been extreme... 

* * *

"No, Blair! No more! You can study me all you damn please, but you're not riding with me anymore," Jim said, laying down the law. 

"And how the hell am I supposed to do that if I can't be with you? Explain that!" Blair yelled back, flinging his arms wide in exasperation. "It was just a bump on the head, Jim. I'm all right." 

"Next time could get you killed," Jim fumed. "I won't allow it." 

" _Allow_ it? You won't _allow_ it?" Blair's face burned with righteous indignation. "I'm not some child you can just order around, you know. I'm a grown man, and I can do what I please!" 

"One call to Simon and your ride along status will be pulled, permanently," Jim threatened. 

"Oh, good one, Jim. Calling out the big guns, are we?" Blair placed his palms against Jim's chest and shoved lightly. "And what are you going to do when you zone on the job? Get _yourself_ killed?" 

"Worried about losing your research project, Sandburg?" Jim growled in response, giving Blair a shove in return. "Wouldn't want that, now, would we?" 

"Why does it always have to come down to my project?" Blair shot back. "What? Don't you think I care about you as a person? Do you think you're just a subject to me, and nothing more?" 

"What do you expect me to think?" Jim asked, standing mere inches from his partner. "How the hell am I supposed to know what you think, how you feel?" 

Blair grabbed two fistfuls of Jim's shirt, prepared to shake some sense into the stubborn man when the urge came over him to show the Sentinel just how he felt, and damn the consequences. Instead of pushing away, he pulled the hard body against his and standing on his toes, connected with the waiting lips with a passion he'd suppressed for far too long. 

To his surprise, Jim didn't pull away. On the contrary, he felt possessive hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, the contact bruising his lips. He opened to the onslaught, surprised when Jim's tongue swept around his mouth, tasting him, marking him. His grip on Jim's shirt relaxed, and he allowed his arms to slide around the broad chest, holding on for dear life. 

When the kiss finally broke, Blair nearly collapsed. His knees weakened and he wobbled, still holding onto Jim for support. Jim wrapped his arms around Blair's waist and pulled him close. "So that's how it is, huh?" he said, looking down into eyes still bright and wild. "Is that what this has all been about? You and me?" 

"I-I-I-I..." Blair stuttered, appalled at what he'd done... wanting to do it again. His cock ached with the nearness of the man he secretly loved, pulsing with the rhythm of his heart. 

"Spit it out, Sandburg," Jim snapped, but his voice was softer, kinder, and full of... longing? "Do you want me, or not?" 

Blair continued to cling to the larger man for support. Robbed of words, he nodded vigorously. Jim began backing him across the room, toward the couch. He stumbled over the edge of the area rug, but was rescued from falling by the strong hands that held him. 

When they reached their goal, Jim pressed him down onto the cushions, his hands making short work of divesting Blair of his belt and jeans. "This is your last chance," Jim warned. "Speak now, or forever hold your peace." 

"Oh God, Jim, yessss!" Blair cried out as big hands freed his throbbing erection just moments before a warm mouth engulfed him. 

* * *

"Blair?" Professor Melbourne shook his shoulder. "Ten minute break, kid." 

"Huh?" Blair said, coming out of his memories. "Oh, thanks." He got up stiffly and wrapped the robe around his body, accepting the hot cup of coffee the professor handed to him. 

"Maybe you'd better take a trip to the men's room and take care of your 'problem'," Melbourne suggested gently, his eyes cast down to Blair's crotch. 

Blair blushed. "Sorry. I'll take care of it," he said. "Thanks, Geoff." He took another sip of his coffee and slipped out of the studio to hurry down the hallway to the men's room. He slid a hand inside his robe and rubbed at the growing erection, groaning at the touch, imagining Jim. He came moments later in great, pulsing spurts. Collapsing against the cool metal door of the stall, he stopped to catch his breath. When he felt his legs would support him again, he made his way to the sink, splashing a little cold water on his face. After wetting a fistful of paper towels to wash off the come, he was ready to go back and face the class once more. 

An hour later, the last of the students had filed from the studio, and Blair was alone with Professor Melbourne. 

"Are you up to more posing tonight?" Melbourne asked. 

Blair sat on the lounge wrapped in his robe and sipping at more of the warming coffee. "If we're going to get this done before Christmas, I guess I'd better," he sighed. 

"What does Jim think of your late hours?" 

"He's not too happy," Blair confessed. "He works days. My schoolwork has kept me from accompanying him on the job lately, and with these night 'classes' of mine, we're not seeing much of each other." 

"Frustrated?" the professor asked with a knowing smile. 

Blair chuckled. "You could say that. We haven't had sex for a week." He stood and paced over to stand in front of one of the space heaters, letting the warmth waft up his robe to take the chill from his shivering flesh. His encounter with Jim that evening was still fresh in his mind. 

* * *

"You haven't been at the station for _weeks_ and you're never home at night!" Jim snapped. "All I want is to be able to spend a little time with you." 

"I thought you didn't want me riding along?" Blair said, annoyed that Jim was taking this all out on him. "I thought you wanted me safe, where I wouldn't get hurt." 

"I didn't think keeping you away from the PD would mean I'd never see you!" Jim fumed. "Can't you stay home tonight?" 

"No, Jim!" Blair shook his head. "I can't. I'm swamped with work at the U. The term ends on Friday, and there are tests to be given, papers that need grading. Then there's _my_ classes. I'm a working student, you know," he reminded his lover. 

"I thought you were ABD," Jim complained, grabbing Blair's shoulders. 

Blair raised his hands between their bodies and with an outward sweep of his arms, knocked Jim's hands away. "Well, I wasn't working with you anymore," he growled, "so I signed up for a few extra classes." 

"Why _night_ classes?" Jim's voice was growing louder with his frustration. 

"Because they weren't offered at any other time," Blair answered, trying to stay reasonable. 

"Blow them off tonight," Jim pleaded. "Stay home." He reached out to grab Blair's crotch, kneading the denim-encased package. 

"Goddammit, Jim! Keep your hands off!" Blair backed out of Jim's reach. "I can't blow off the classes tonight. We're too close to the end of the term. I'm doing this for you. Can't you just let it go at that?" 

"What do you mean, you're doing this for me?" Jim's hands flew up in rage. "I never see you. We never talk. When you _do_ come home, you're too damn tired for sex. What am I getting out of this?" 

Blair turned angrily on his heel. "You just don't get it, do you? Never mind," he interrupted himself. "I'm already late. Good-bye, Jim." He slammed the door on his way out, leaving a stunned and confused lover in his wake. 

* * *

"I felt pretty bad, once I'd had a little time to cool down," Blair admitted. "Jim really just doesn't understand, and I can't tell him." 

"It's hard keeping secrets," Melbourne acknowledged. "Are you sure this one is worth it?" 

"I hope so," Blair sighed, letting the robe slip. He reclined on the lounge and looked up at the professor. "We'd better get busy so that I can get home at a reasonable hour tonight." 

"You know what to do," Melbourne said with a smile as he went to gather his canvas and oils. 

Blair made himself comfortable and began stroking his cock to fullness. The organ swelled under his hand, reaching the point of aching for relief, the pre-come glistening in the studio lights as it leaked from the purple glans. 

"Very good," the professor approved, handing Blair a soft latex cockring. "Here you go. We wouldn't want you losing that hard-on before I'm finished." 

Blair rolled the cockring down the length of his penis, snapping it tight at the base of the column of flesh. He then laid back on the lounge in a comfortable sprawl, one hand curled loosely around his erection, the other behind his head. His left knee was bent, his foot braced on the couch cushion; his other leg dangled off the edge with his bare foot brushing the hardwood floor. "How's this?" 

Melbourne smiled and nodded. "That's good. Hold your pose," he said needlessly as he picked up his brush. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Blair dragged himself into the loft after midnight. He headed straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth and then tiptoed upstairs. Sliding quietly beneath the covers, he snuggled his cold body against Jim. 

"It's 12:18," a soft voice told him. Jim wrapped an arm around the chilled body of his lover and pulled him closer, dialing down touch to lessen the shock of contact. "How come you're so late?" 

"Class ran over," Blair mumbled, not wanting to get into a conversation at that moment. "Can we talk in the morning?" 

Jim crinkled his nose at the smell of semen that Blair hadn't completely washed away before leaving the university. "Okay, but we _will_ talk," he said, burying his face in the fragrant hair and closing his eyes. 

The next morning, Blair found himself reluctant to leave the shower and face his lover. He sensed an underlying anger simmering, even though he wasn't sure what he had done, other than come in late. He dried off and took time to shave, then wrapped himself in his robe and stepped out to meet his fate. 

Jim was shoveling scrambled eggs onto his plate as Blair crossed the room. The timer on the toaster pinged, and he detoured to put the warm toast on a plate and bring it over to the table. 

"Good morning," he greeted Jim, sitting at his place opposite the older man. 

"Is it?" Jim mumbled around a bite of eggs. 

Blair glanced out the glass doors to the sky beyond the balcony. "Looks like it, yeah," he said cautiously. "Something the matter, man?" 

"What makes you think that?" Jim's words were clipped. 

"Oh, I dunno," Blair said, taking a bite of toast and chewing thoughtfully. "Maybe this cold shoulder treatment you're giving me this morning?" 

"I'm not giving you the cold shoulder, Sandburg!" Jim snapped, going back to his meal. 

"Um, yes you are," Blair responded slowly. He put down his fork and looked at Jim. 

Jim matched the gaze. "You smelled of semen last night in bed." Blair's head suddenly dipped, and he blushed. "Where were you last night?" 

"I was at class," Blair said, determined to stick with his story. 

"Cut the crap! You come home late smelling of sex, and you expect me to believe you were at a class all night?" Jim was incredulous. 

"It's the truth," Blair said, looking up again. "Honest, Jim. There's nothing going on." 

"I don't believe you," Jim said, his voice monotone and deadly serious. "How can I believe you when you stay out all night and come home in the morning smelling of sex?" 

"It's not what you think...." 

"Oh? And just what do I think, Sandburg? Tell me that!" Jim's hand thumped down on the table, rattling the plates. 

"I'm not seeing anyone else, Jim." Blair's voice was strained. "I love _you_. There's nobody else." 

"I would have agreed with you a week ago," Jim said, shaking his head. "But now...? How do you explain the come?" 

"I was thinking about you, about us, during the class," Blair said, truthfully. "I had to jack off in the men's room during the break." 

"Uh-huh." Jim folded his napkin and pushed back his chair. "Well, if you care that much, you'll stay home tonight. We'll kiss and make up." 

"I can't." Blair's voice was soft and shaking. "I just can't tonight, Jim. Please...." 

"All right, have it your way!" Jim carried his dishes over to the sink, all but dropping them in. "I'm going into the station. If you have an opportunity, maybe you'll deign to stop by and give me a little of your precious time today. If not, I'll see you at dinner." He ran some water for the dishes to soak, and grabbed his coat, slamming the front door behind him as he left. 

Quietly, Blair got up and scraped the rest of his breakfast into the disposal. He went about the business of washing and drying the dishes, cleaning up the kitchen and the dining table, so that Jim would have one less thing to gripe about when he got home that night. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Blair sat in his office, finishing up the questions for the final exams he was giving his students the following day. He pulled off his glasses and looked up at the clock on the wall, rubbing at his eyes to relieve the strain. It was 5:15. Jim would most likely be home. The art class he was modeling for didn't start until 7:00. He sighed. He really didn't want to go home to the argument that was bound to happen when he got there. 

Picking up the phone, he dialed the loft. "Hey, Jim," he began when the detective answered the phone. "I'm swamped here at the U, man. I've got tests I need to finish writing, and my evening class starts in less than two hours. I think I'll just pick up something to eat at the cafeteria and see if I can't get some of this paperwork out of the way." 

_"Whatever, Sandburg,"_ Jim said tiredly. _"Just try to be quiet when you come in tonight."_ With that, he hung up the phone. 

Blair looked at the phone in his hand before gently reseating it in the cradle. Jim had taken that rather well. Maybe too well, he mused. Pushing back his chair, he stood and stretched. The cafeteria was across campus, near the Art Department. He put on his coat and walked over to see what he could scrounge for his dinner. 

After he had eaten a meager supper, he decided to head over to the studio. It was right next door, and he didn't much feel like hanging around the student center and getting caught up in a conversation with other students. 

He walked into the deserted studio and made himself comfortable on the lounge he used to pose. Settling his glasses on his nose, he opened a textbook and began to read. He didn't even notice when Geoffrey Melbourne approached. 

"Blair?" When the young man looked up, startled, the professor laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "What are you doing here so early?" 

Sighing, Blair closed his book and looked up at his friend. "Honestly?" he asked, taking off his glasses to look up at the older man. "I didn't want to go home." 

Melbourne shook his head sadly and sat down next to Blair. "Having some problems at home? 

"You could say that." Blair ran a hand through his tangle of curls. "Jim's all upset because I'm never home in the evenings anymore. I haven't had time to spend at the PD, and I didn't think he really wanted me there, anyway." He sighed, dropping his head into his hands. "It just feels a little like it's all falling apart." 

The professor patted the stooped back gently. "Have you considered telling Jim what you're doing?" 

Blair looked up. "I can't. I'm only doing this so that I can have something cool to give him for Christmas. If he finds out about the modeling, he'll explode." 

"A little jealous, is he?" Melbourne asked. 

"More like a little possessive," Blair corrected. "But in a good way," he hastened to add. "He's not controlling, or anything like that. He's just... I mean, he likes... He _needs_ for our relationship to be monogamous." 

"And have you done anything to put that facet of your relationship in jeopardy?" Melbourne asked, carefully observing his young friend. 

Blair shook his head. "No. That's just it. I haven't. I've been working my ass off every day, then coming here nights. But nude modeling... I'm not sure he'd understand, and if I tried to explain, I'd give away the surprise." 

"You have a bit of a dilemma there," Melbourne agreed. "Perhaps you ought to just tell him that your evenings at the university have something to do with his Christmas gift. I'm sure he'd understand." 

"I think it's too late for that," Blair said softly. "He already doesn't trust me. I'm not sure he'd believe anything I told him at this point. I'm afraid I'm going to lose him," he finished with a sigh. 

"Do you love him?" 

Blair looked up at the professor. "Oh God, yes, Geoff! Forever. It seems like I've loved him forever. Only I couldn't tell him. And then we had this big fight, and it just all came out, from both of us. I was so shocked. I still haven't come down from the high." The memory brought a small grin to the stricken face. "But now... What if I've blown it? What if I've ruined any chance we had?" 

"If he loves you even half as much as you love him, he'll understand," Melbourne said. "He'll forgive you." 

"I hope so. God, I hope so," Blair sighed. He glanced up at the clock. "Looks like it's about time to get ready for class." He stood and picked up his backpack, and headed for the hallway. He paused at the door, looking back at the professor with bleak eyes. 

"It's going to be okay," Melbourne assured him. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Blair looked out over the easels to the faces of the young artists, men and women only a few years his junior. A slight blush warmed his body as he suddenly felt naked and exposed for the first time since taking the modeling job. These strangers were studying him, committing his likeness to paper: his face, his body, his genitals. Things only Jim should see. A shiver traced its way up his body from his groin to his head causing sensitive tissues to tighten almost painfully, and a shudder to run through him. 

Professor Melbourne called for a break, and Blair gratefully pulled a robe around his nakedness and huddled by one of the space heaters. 

"Blair?" The professor settled next to the young man, wrapping an arm around the shaking shoulders. "Are you all right, son?" 

Blair shook his head. "I don't think I can go through with this," he admitted. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't worry about it," Melbourne assured him. "I'll end the class early. Do you feel like staying for your portrait work tonight?" 

"I don't think so," Blair admitted. He turned to look at the professor. "How much longer will you need me before you can finish?" 

Melbourne gave the question some thought. "I think one more session ought to do it," he said, "if you can pose for, say, about an hour? After that I should have enough to go on to complete the portrait without you needing to be present." 

"How about tomorrow night?" Blair asked. 

The next day was Friday, and the last day of classes for the term. "I'll tell you what," the professor said. "I'll cancel tomorrow's class to give the students time to finish their final projects on their own. I'm sure they'll appreciate the extra hours. You can pose for me during the time you'd normally model for the class. That way you could get home earlier. How does that sound?" 

"Great!" Blair said, relieved. "Thank you, Geoff. Sorry to be so much trouble." 

"Blair, you've done me a great favor. It isn't often my students have an opportunity to draw the nude male form. Usually, it's women who volunteer to model. These past two weeks have been a real treat. I hope you'll consider it again, once you and Jim get back on stable ground." Melbourne smiled at the young man and patted his back. "Up you go, now. Get dressed and go home where you belong." 

Slowly, Blair rose. Drawing the ratty old robe tightly around himself, he padded out of the studio and back to the office to dress. 

~oO0Oo~ 

"You're home early," Jim commented as he walked out of the bathroom after brushing his teeth. "What's the matter, did your date fall through?" 

"That's a mean thing to say!" Blair burst out, frustrated and angry. "I skipped out of class early to come home and spend time with you. But no, Mr. Big Macho Cop still thinks his flaky hippie boyfriend is out getting some on the side." 

"What am I supposed to think?" Jim ground out in response. "You're never home evenings. And even if you _do_ have a class at the university..." 

"I do!" Blair interrupted. 

"If you do, you're still home on average much later than can be accounted for by a night class," Jim finished. He turned toward the stairs to the bedroom. 

"I-I have things to do," Blair said softly. 

"I'll just bet you do," Jim agreed. "Good night, Sandburg." He climbed the stairs without a backward glance at the distraught anthropologist. 

"Good night," Blair said softly, knowing the Sentinel was probably listening. With a sigh, he shrugged out of his backpack and coat, hanging them neatly on the hooks by the door. He walked passed the kitchen, his appetite decidedly lacking. For that matter, his meager supper from earlier in the evening was making itself known, and Blair was afraid he might throw up. 

He went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed. Bed. Was he welcome upstairs, or should he use the futon in his old bedroom? He hesitated in the hall, glancing from the French doors of his old room to the railing surrounding the loft where Jim slept. His heart pounding, he made his decision, slowly climbing the steep stairs to the upper bedroom. 

Blair circled the bed, pulling back the covers on the far side and slipping in. As soon as he was settled, Jim rolled over, facing away from him. The gap that separated the two men could have easily slept a third person. 

Blair rolled onto his side with his back to Jim and concentrated on slowing his racing heart so that he could sleep. It wasn't an easy task, but eventually he drifted off. 

The next morning, Jim seemed more contrite, as though he'd known how much his actions had hurt Blair. "I'm sorry about last night," he said gently, bringing Blair a plate of low-fat waffles topped with strawberry preserves. "I can be a real ass sometimes." 

"Just sometimes?" Blair asked, grinning. 

"Touch," Jim said, with a chuckle. He sat down and pulled his plate toward him, sampling a waffle before speaking again. "Tonight's Friday. How about we stay home, light a fire in the fireplace, maybe a few candles, put on a little soft music, and make up for a shitty week?" 

"That sounds wonderful," Blair agreed. 

"Good. Then we'll call it a date," Jim said with a smile. 

"I can't." The words were whispered so softly, even the Sentinel had to strain to hear. 

"What do you mean, you can't?" Jim's reply was also soft, not so much angry, as hurt. 

Blair looked up from studying his plate. "It's the last class of the term. I can't miss it," he said. 

Jim took a deep breath, composing his reply, but was interrupted as Blair rushed on. "But I'll be home early," he said. "Maybe we could have our romantic evening after I get back?" 

"What do you consider early?" Jim asked, suspicious once more. 

"Oh, say, around nine o'clock, give or take a few minutes?" 

Jim sighed. "All right. Any chance you'll come by the office today?" 

Blair shook his head. "I'm giving finals in the two classes I've been teaching this term." 

"You going to be home for dinner, at least?" Jim wondered, picking at his rapidly cooling food. 

"Yeah. Oh, yeah, I plan to," Blair said, nodding. "I'll get as much stuff done today as I can, and finish up over the weekend. That way I can post grades on Monday morning, and then I'll be all yours until January." 

"Be still my beating heart," Jim teased, putting his hand over his heart and rolling his eyes slightly. 

The two men finished eating and went their separate ways for the day. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Dinner was a quiet affair. Blair picked at his food, his appetite gone. He was nervous about having to leave for a class he knew had been canceled. He hated lying to Jim, but Professor Melbourne had assured him that he only needed Blair for one more night, and he could finish the portrait by Christmas without his model being present. He kept one eye on the clock, anxious to get it over with. Finally, the clock read 6:30. Blair let out a sigh. 

"Time to get my butt in gear," he said. "It'll be nice to have classes out of the way for a while." 

Jim nodded, watching as Blair pulled on his coat and grabbed his backpack. "See ya," he called out to his departing lover. He listened to Blair's progress down the hall, into the elevator, and out into the parking lot. Folding his napkin, he got up, put on his own coat, and walked down to the lot where the truck was parked. He arrived just as the Volvo pulled into the evening traffic on Prospect Avenue. 

* * *

The studio was already warm when Blair arrived. Only one easel was set up in the room. Geoffrey Melbourne stood behind it, mixing his oils on a palette. "Ah, Blair! Good to see you. Ready for a last bit of posing?" 

"That's why I'm here," Blair said, standing beside the lounge with his robe pulled tightly closed. "I have to admit, I'm glad we're almost done." 

Melbourne set the palette on a stool and walked over to where Blair stood. "I know you are. Still having trouble with Jim?" 

Blair turned his eyes on the professor and sighed. "Things are better," he said. "But we haven't been talking much. I'm afraid he's still suspicious about my nights out." 

"Here, let me help with that," Melbourne said, lifting the shoulders of the robe and gently pulling it off. "The sooner we get started, the sooner I can let you go home." 

Blair stretched out on the lounge, assuming the pose he'd been holding nightly for the past week. The professor had gone back to his easel, preparing to paint. "Blair, you need to get it up, son, if we're going to finish." He came back around and dipped onto one knee in front of the lounge. He took Blair's hand and laid it on the flaccid penis. "Remember, it's for Jim," he said, giving the young man an encouraging smile. 

The smile was weakly returned, and Blair started stroking himself, slowly bringing his cock to attention. 

"There you go. Good. Good." The professor fished the cockring from a pocket and handed it to Blair, who took the device and began pushing it down the length of his penis. 

"Stop right there!" The strong voice echoed in the large, mostly empty room. 

Blair twisted in surprise, scrabbling to find his robe, which had fallen to the floor. "Jim! What are you doing here?" 

"I got curious and followed you," the detective admitted. "And what do I find? You, naked on a couch, with some old geezer touching your cock!" 

"Jim!" Blair was shocked and embarrassed, his entire body blushing brightly. "This is Professor Geoffrey Melbourne. He works here at the Art Department." 

"And I suppose he's been 'tutoring' you nightly?" Jim growled, bending down to pick up the abandoned robe and tossing it at Blair. 

"Quite the contrary," Melbourne spoke up, rising from his awkward position on the floor. "Blair has been modeling for my Life Drawing class." 

Jim looked around the room. "I don't see any class," he accused. 

"That's because I canceled class tonight," Melbourne explained. 

"Uh-huh," Jim said, nodding his head. "So why then is Blair lying naked on this couch? 

"It's not what you think, Jim!" Blair had wrapped the robe tightly around his body and come to stand next to the incensed detective. 

"Well, I sure as hell know what it looks like!" the detective barked at the two men. "And what's this?" He walked over to see the contents of the easel. "Good God, Blair! You were letting this... this... man... paint you naked?" 

Blair crossed the short distance between them to stand next to Jim. "There's a perfectly innocent explanation," he said quietly. 

"I'd like to hear it," Jim fumed, fixing Blair with a steady gaze. 

The young man cleared his throat, his first words coming out as a hesitant stutter. "I-I... Oh God, Jim... Christmas is coming..." he began, pausing to look at the incensed detective, hoping that his few words might be explanation enough. 

"I'm aware of that, Chief," Jim said more gently this time. "What has that got to do with anything?" 

"You have a job, man. Something that pays real money," Blair recited the obvious. "But me, I can barely get by on the stipend I get as a TA. I just didn't have anything left to buy you a gift." 

"So you pose naked for some guy?" Jim asked, incredulous. 

Professor Melbourne stepped in. "I've been petitioning on campus for quite some time to find a young man willing to be a nude model for my class," he explained. "The students are a co-ed mixture, and while I have an abundance of female volunteers, I couldn't find a male model." He turned to Blair, who was watching him intently. "Blair came to me with a proposition. Uh-uh..." Melbourne put out a hand to stay Jim's physical reaction to his statement. "Not that kind of proposition. He offered to model for my class, in exchange for a favor." At this point, Melbourne turned a pointed gaze on Blair. It was up to the young man to decide whether or not to spoil the Christmas surprise by telling the rest of the tale. 

Jim's gaze followed the professor's and both men watched Blair as he fidgeted, rocking from one bare foot to the other on the cold hardwood floor. 

"Well, Chief?" Jim cocked an eyebrow and waited. 

"I asked Geoffrey to paint a portrait of me - a nude portrait," Blair explained. "I was going to give it to you for Christmas." He hung his head and stared at the floor. "Not a very smart idea, huh?" His final words were soft and muffled. 

"Why didn't you just tell me your late nights were for my Christmas gift? Jim asked, resting his hands on the stooped shoulders. 

"Because I never thought it would come to this," Blair explained, looking up into the pale blue eyes. "And once we were in the middle of it... I don't know. I guess my anger blinded me, made me do stupid things. I'm really sorry, Jim." 

"I'm sorry, too, Sweetheart. I should have trusted you more." Jim gathered the young man into his arms. "I don't know what came over me. I'm as much to blame here as you. I was just too caught up in my own issues to listen." 

Geoffrey Melbourne interrupted. "I think it's obvious how you both feel about each other," he said. "All you need to do is work on better communication. If there's one thing my sixty-eight years have taught me, it's to speak out, to say what I mean and not couch my words with riddles and misdirection." 

"I promise to tell you what's going on next time," Blair said, sealing his words with a quick peck on Jim's lips. 

The detective smiled. "And I promise to try and put more trust in what you tell me," he said, returning the kiss. 

Blair's eyebrows arched and he grinned. "Try? You're going to _try_ to trust me?" 

"Little steps, Michelangelo. Little steps," Jim returned with a chuckle, mussing silken curls on top of Blair's head. 

"I hear you." Blair nodded. "Trust takes time. I've gotta earn it." 

"And I've got to learn to let go a little." Jim wrapped an arm around Blair's waist and steered him out of the studio. They stopped briefly in the office so that Blair could dress, and then Jim drove them home. 

"I'll have Simon send someone over to pick up the keys to the Volvo and drive it back here," he told his lover as he guided him into the loft. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Jim backed Blair up the stairs, stripping him as they went. He pushed the smaller man onto the bed where he lay sprawled on the sheets, his cock still hard thanks to the cockring he'd neglected to remove. 

Jim stripped quickly and pounced onto the bed, capturing the willing mouth in a hungry kiss. His eager hands roamed the furred flesh, brushing rosy nipples to rock-hard peaks. Blair arched into his touch, rubbing his aching erection against Jim's abdomen. Jim let his hands roam lower, following the contours of the compact, well-proportioned body, until he reached the hips. 

His hands strayed beneath the arched body to cup the rounded globes of Blair's ass. He squeezed the flesh, growling, "Mine," as he released Blair's mouth in order to lick and suckle an erect teat. Blair moaned, and Jim released the nipple to give its twin equal time. 

Writhing under his lover's touch, Blair begged with inarticulate whimpers for his cock to be taken, but Jim ignored the offering, sliding down to let his tongue lap at the delicate flesh of the perineum before starting to tease the sensitive pucker beneath. He pushed his tongue past the tight opening, stretching and lubricating it. 

Blair's fingers clutched at the short hair on Jim's head, unable to find purchase. Jim continued to tease and stretch, finally shifting to grab the lube off the nightstand. Squeezing some gel onto his fingers, he continued to prepare his lover. 

"Ah, Jim... Ahhhhh..." Blair moaned as the head of Jim's cock pushed past the ring of muscle to enter him. 

Jim began with slow, gentle strokes, caressing the velvety lining before rubbing firmly over the swelling rise of Blair's prostate. 

"Oh my God, Jim!" Blair cried out. "Please, please!" He reached out, trying to get Jim to service his cock, which was dark with trapped blood and leaking pre-come. 

"Huh-uh," Jim scolded, slapping Blair's hands away. "You made me wait a week," he teased. "Now it's your turn." 

"Oh, please, Jim!" Blair begged. The ache teetered between exquisite pleasure and pain. He tried to stroke himself, to remove the constricting cockring, but found his hands slapped away again as Jim began to pound harder into him, repeatedly hitting his prostate with each stroke. 

Jim could feel his testicles begin to tighten with the nearness of his climax. He made certain to torture his lover one last time, putting unrelenting pressure on the sensitive gland as he rode out his orgasm. A warm haze of completion washed over him, leaving him sated and sleepy. He rolled off his lover and gathered the perspiration-slicked body into his arms. 

Muffled sounds of whimpered cries reached his ears. Opening his eyes, he saw Blair watching him, his cheeks streaked with tears. "Baby? What's the matter?" he asked softly. A whimper was his only answer. "Oh, geez! Blair..." Jim reached between their bodies and released the cockring, gently stroking the over-sensitized organ. Blair's cries increased, but the tone had changed from pain to a pleasured keening. 

Blair buried his face in the juncture between Jim's neck and shoulder to muffle his screams as he came, shooting creamy come between them. His cock pulsed repeatedly, wringing a long-overdue orgasm from him. When it finally ended, his muscles felt like rubber left too long in the sun. He didn't want to move; couldn't move. 

The couple lay together for about twenty minutes, before Jim finally pushed them apart. "Come on, Chief," he said, rolling the mind-numbed anthropologist onto his back. "We'd better get up and take a shower, or we'll be stuck together like super glue." 

"You go," Blair murmured. 

"You're coming, too," Jim insisted, hauling the smaller body off the bed. 

In the bathroom, Jim started the water, testing to make sure it wasn't too hot before dragging Blair under the spray and beginning to wash. He started with his favorite: Blair's hair. A dollop of green apple scented shampoo in his palm, he began the gentle cleansing of the scalp and the silken strands of hair. When he finished, he moved his partner back under the spray to rinse away the lather. 

The shampoo sheeted down Blair's body in bubbly white streaks, the apple scent mixing with what was left of the semen to create a unique scent that Jim was beginning to associate exclusively with his lover. He took the shower gel and squeezed some onto a washcloth, gently scrubbing away the evidence of their lovemaking. He was particularly careful with the tender penis, still sensitive from its prolonged arousal. 

Blair tipped his head back to let the water sluice over his face and down his body. He enjoyed the ministrations of his lover and looked forward to having his turn to do the same. When the couple was finally finished bathing, the water was beginning to run cold. 

Jim toweled Blair's body, while the young man wrung the worst of the wetness from his hair. He then dried himself and went upstairs to change the sheets, waiting for Blair to finish detangling his hair with the stylist's pick. 

The anthropologist finally made his way back up the stairs and climbed into bed next to Jim, curling up in his warm embrace, where he belonged. 

~oO0Oo~ 

Christmas day came and went. Blair sat in the middle of the large bed wearing nothing more than the cashmere sweater Jim had given him that matched the color of his eyes to perfection. In one corner of the room sat the portrait. 

Jim sat on the edge of the bed, admiring the man who occupied its center. Blair sat with his legs crossed, his hands resting loosely in his lap, his cock standing proud and tall against the soft blue of the sweater. Jim stretched out, propping his head up with one hand. The other reached out, fingers trailing down the silken length of the hard flesh. His eyes flickered to the portrait and back to the subject, whose soft hums of pleasure filled the room. 

"Tell me something?" Jim asked softly, watching as those incredible blue eyes opened and focused on him. 

Blair smiled lazily, still humming as Jim stroked his shaft. "What?" 

"Not that I don't love the picture," Jim said. "But what makes you think I need anything more, when I have the real thing right here?" 

* * *

End The Portrait by Natalie L: nat1228@comcast.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


End file.
